Home
by cedarrapidsgirl78
Summary: What happened after Henry died, Frank was CO, Hawkeye was on R and R and before Trapper went home?


Home

1

**A/N-What happened in the time after Henry died, Hawkeye was on R and R, and Trapper was stuck with Ferret Face before he went home?**

Home.

Trapper couldn't believe it at first. This has got to be some mistake. An Army screw-up, just like the last time he was supposed to go home. A prize that they had dangled in front of him, and then yanked away, laughing like the bully on the playground that offers you a piece of candy, and then pulls back just in time to watch you fall flat on your face. Frank wouldn't do anything that mean, would he? Sure, old ferret face was inexcusably a horrible doctor, his personality wasn't much better, and don't even start on his sorry stint as CO. He made Henry look like the Captain of the Good Ship Lollipop instead of the Titanic. Frank was just a figurehead in that chair, anyway. It was no secret that Hotlips made all the decisions. Frank was just her patsy. Trapper looked at the papers in his hands. There was only one person in camp who he knew could tell him the truth. He gulped the rest of his drink and headed to Radar's office.

Trapper burst through the door. "Radar?"

Radar jumped. He had been so engrossed in his typing of the daily reports that he didn't even hear the doctor approach. "Sir!"

"Sorry, Radar. I didn't mean to startle you. You gotta minute?"

"Sure, sir. I was just trying to get ahead on my work by filling out tomorrow's daily reports today."

"How do you do-never mind, I don't think I want to know. Hey, what do you know about these? Frank threw them in my general direction in the Swamp, and muttered something incoherent." He started to show Radar the papers.

"Sure, Trapper. I know all about them. You're going home. Congratulations, sir."

"Thanks Radar, but are you sure it's all legit? I mean, Frank's not above a mean trick, and I don't really want to be let down again."

"It's all official, Trapper, honest." The young corporal looked up at him through his dirty glasses. "I sent off the papers off only three days ago for a replacement surgeon, but he can't be here until Friday, and today's only Monday. That's why you can't leave now. You'll leave on the plane from Kimpo that he arrives on. He sounds like a pretty good guy. His name is-uh, I have it here somewhere-here it is-BJ Hunnicutt." He pulled out the paper he was looking for, smiling triumphantly.

Trapper was shocked. He couldn't believe it. He was going home. Radar wouldn't lie about something that important. "Okay, Radar, some more questions. Why didn't you tell me about this two days ago when you sent off the papers, and why is Frank trying to act human by doing this?"

Radar looked around quickly and lowered his voice, probably so Frank couldn't hear, if he was around. "He ordered me not to, sir. He said if I told you before he did, he would glue my bugle to my lips! And I don't know why, Trapper. Major Burns didn't say. He just told me to get the papers for a replacement surgeon and a discharge, 'cause Dr. McIntyre was going home. I honestly don't know. But we'll miss you, sir."

Trapper could tell that Radar really didn't know any more. He turned to leave, then stopped. "Wait a minute. I leave Friday morning?"

"Yes sir. You leave here at 7:00 a.m. for an 8:00 a.m. flight out of Kimpo."

"Radar, we have a problem. Hawkeye's on R and R in Tokyo, and isn't due back until late Friday morning. You know just as well as I do that Hawkeye won't be back any earlier than he has to, and I won't get to say goodbye. And you also know that I can't let that happen. Radar, get on that phone right now and try to find Hawkeye."

"Sir, I don't know where he is! He said he was going to be unavailable, unreachable and unattainable."

Trapper paused at the door again. "I don't care! I need to see him before I go. Or at least talk to him. He's my best friend! I'm just not going to leave him here alone with Ferret Face and Hot Lips. Try everything you know to reach him, and everything you don't know as well. Now please start trying." Trapper then left, letting the door slam behind him.

"Yes, sir!" Radar called after the doctor. He sighed. This wasn't going to be easy. He sat down and wound up the phone. "Hey, Sparky? It's Radar. I'm gonna need some help. You ready? Okay. First..."

Trapper went back to the Swamp. He was the only one there. Frank had moved into Henry's tent, Hawkeye was resting and recreating, and the temporary replacement surgeon they had gotten for Hawk's absence was staying in the VIP tent for some reason. He poured himself a drink and sat down in a chair. He was going home Friday. But it was only Monday. What was he going to do with himself? With no casualties expected for a while, there was only one thing to do. He drained his drink quickly, and poured himself another, the first of many, many more.

"Trapper? Trapper? Dr. McIntyre?" He felt a hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake. "Sir? Wake up."

"No one calls me 'sir' and lives." Trapper mumbled into his pillow. He sat up, and immediately regretted it, as his head informed him that consuming massive amounts of alcohol was not advised. "Ugh. I feel horrible. What's the matter, Klinger? Casualties? Have you heard from Hawkeye?"

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but no on both, sir. I just figured that you'd been sleeping for a while, and since you're going home tomorrow, that someone had better make sure you were awake, and also make sure that you had time to pack and get everything together." Klinger looked around the Swamp, which was in a worse state of disaster than usual.

"Wait a minute-I'm going home tomorrow? I thought you'd said I was going home on Friday."

"You are, sir. It's Thursday morning."

There was a silence. "Max, this may sound stupid, but what happened to Tuesday and Wednesday? The last day I remember was Monday. Did I really drink that much?" Trapper had a feeling he already knew the answer. "Let me add this too-did I do anything really stupid?"

"Well, yes, you really did drink that much, and to answer your second question, let's just say Hawkeye isn't the only one to show everyone everything in the mess tent." The other man looked at Trapper and grinned.

"Oh man." Trapper rubbed his temples. I have a vague recollection of that, and now of also a few other incidents that I don't think I need to remember." He sighed. "Thanks, Klinger. I do need to get some stuff done."

After the cross-dressing corporal left, Trapper looked around. It was time to start packing up his things. He opened up his footlocker and started putting in his clothes.

Two hours later, Trapper had finished. There was one more important thing he had to do. It didn't look like Radar was going to be able to find Hawkeye, despite his best efforts. Since his bed was loaded down with his stuff, he sat down on Hawkeye's bunk. He rummaged through the nightstand until he found a pad of paper and a pencil. Let's see, where to start? Trapper shifted and thought hard. Damn, he couldn't even come up with a salutation that sounded appropriate, much less the rest of the note. Finally he tried a couple drafts, but nothing made sense. How could you write down everything that someone means to you? Trapper gave up and put everything away. He went over to the still and poured another drink. He didn't drink it, however, but just stared at it. That's something that Trapper hoped would stop when he got home. He never drank that much before he came to Korea. The conditions around here certainly didn't help matters. Trapper couldn't drink to excess back home even if he wanted to. Not with his girls around. He didn't need to repeat any of his actions from the last three days back in Boston and have his babies ask questions. And Louise. She knew he drank, and cheated, yet she still stayed with him. Trapper sat in the chair for a long time, holding his drink, staring into space, thinking. Suddenly he got up quickly, put down his untouched drink, and exited the tent.

Trapper went across the compound quickly. He paused outside of the tent. At first he almost chickened out, he almost didn't do it. But if Trapper was going to turn his life around he had to. The doctor knocked on the door.

"Come in."

Trapper entered the tent and closed the door. Father Mulcahy looked up from his bible, surprised. Trapper was not really what the Father would call a religious man, and the way he lived confirmed it. Father Mulcahy knew of Trapper's habits. He had tried to talk to the doctor about them before, but had been rejected by Trapper, who adamantly refused to hear anything about religion. Trapper looking for the good father was definitely not normal.

"Good afternoon, Trapper. Can I help you with something?"

"Uh, yeah, Father. Do you have a minute?" Trapper was looking around nervously.

Father Mulcahy smiled. "Of course, my son. Have a seat." He gestured to the chair. "Now, what can I do for you?"

Trapper shifted uneasily in the army issue chair. This was not easy. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Father, forgive me, for I have sinned." He made the sign of the cross as he spoke.

Father Mulcahy was stunned. While he knew the words that Trapper spoke, hearing them from Trapper himself was most unusual indeed. He then said something most un-priestlike. "Excuse me?"

Trapper smiled slightly. "It was hard enough to say it the first time, Father, please don't make me repeat it."

"I'm sorry, Trapper. Go ahead, my son."

Thank you, Father. First off, please call me John-not Trapper. Trapper is someone I'm trying to change, and possibly get rid of."

This whole interaction was very shocking to Father Mulcahy, but he somehow managed to keep his composure. "Sure, John. You know, for a minute I had forgotten that you were Catholic."

"Well, Father, I'll admit, I haven't been a practicing Catholic for a while now, but there's no time like the present to start again. And the name John Francis Xavier McIntyre should be a dead give away to my upbringing" He smiled.

"Of course. I'm sorry for distracting you, Trap-I mean, John, go ahead with what's on your mind."

Trapper and Father Mulcahy talked for about two hours. Trapper came out of the tent relieved. He felt now that he was ready to leave all the things he didn't need anymore in Korea. He was ready to go home to his wife, his daughters and his new life.

That night Trapper slept deeply and dreamt of home. When he awoke, he was confused, then the reality set in. The olive drab ceiling. This is the last time he'd have to look at that ugly thing. A glance at the clock told him it was 4:00 a.m. Not enough time to go back to sleep, but way to early to be awake. Trapper sighed and pulled on his clothes. Maybe he'd go somewhere quiet and try to write that goodbye note to Hawkeye he'd been putting off.

"Morning, Igor." Trapper greeted the cook as he stirred something lumpy and grey. He hoped it was oatmeal. It was probably eggs. Trapper poured himself a cup of purple coffee.

"Good Morning Sir." He was way too cheerful for the time of day. "You're up awfully early, Doctor. And you're going home in a couple hours, too." He gestured with his spoon. "What brings you in here so early?"

"I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep. I have some final things to take care off, and the Swamp was too quiet. By the way, be careful where you point that spoon with that slop. In the civilized world that would be considered a deadly weapon." He sat at the table, making sure he was downwind. "What is that stuff, anyway?"

"Eggs." Igor replied happily. Trapper grimaced and turned his attention to his paper. 'Dear Hawk', he wrote. Man, how could he do this? Trapper let himself get lost in the memories that the two crazy doctors had pulled off. Getting an incubator, playing pranks on Frank and Margaret, all the O.R. sessions. That's one thing he wouldn't miss. He sat in the mess tent, lost in thought.

Before he knew it, someone was shaking him on the shoulder. "Sir? Sir? Captain McIntyre?" Trapper snapped out of his half trance and sleep to see Radar standing next to him. "Trapper, come on, it's time to go."

"What time is it, Radar?"

"It's five of seven, sir, I've already got your things in the jeep."

"But Radar-I didn't get a chance to say goodbye to everyone, and most of all-" He looked down at his paper. It still only had the salutation he had written hours before. "I suppose Hawkeye is still a no show."

"Yes, sir, I've tried everything. He's due back about an hour after you leave. As for goodbyes, there's no time, sir. You have to go NOW if you're going to make your flight." The corporal was beginning to look agitated.

Trapper sighed. "Okay, Radar. Listen, I couldn't find the words to write a note for Hawk, so could you give him something for me?"

"Sure, sir."

Trapper leaned over and kissed the corporal on the cheek. Radar looked stunned. "Sir, I can't do that!"

"Oh yes you can, Radar. I know you will, for me. Please?" Trapper smiled.

"Okay, sir, but I'm telling him it was your idea." He rubbed the kiss off his cheek.

"Okay, Radar. Tell everyone else goodbye for me, too." Trapper left the mess tent and headed for the waiting jeep. He climbed in and took one last long look around the 4077th. Then he turned around and spoke. "Go ahead, driver." The jeep took off, and Trapper was gone. Dr. John McIntyre was going home.


End file.
